


I am a Rock

by levele3



Series: Sherlock&Shakespeare [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Asexual Sherlock, Bromance, Canonical Character Death, Caring, Character Death, Death, Epic Bromance, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Growing Up, I am a rock, Love, M/M, Multi, Other, POV Sherlock Holmes, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Romance, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Relationships, Song fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has always had a hard time making connections with other people, but Sherlock has no trouble at all connecting with death. A brief look at the important relationships and moments in Sherlock's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am a Rock

**Author's Note:**

> A small section of this story holds a major spoiler for my other story One Week. While they can both be each read independent of one another if you want to read One Week I suggest you read that first.  
> This is my personal take on how past events in Sherlock's life reflect how he handles situations now.  
> Characters belong to A.C. Doyle, S. Moffat and M. Gatiss (BBC).  
> This is also a sort of song fic lyrics from I am a Rock by Simon and Garfunkel.

_“I am a rock, I am an Island”_

Dr. Siger and Violet (nee Sherrinford) Holmes are pleased to announce the birth of their baby boy William Sherlock Scott Holmes born the 6th of January 1976. Proud elder brother is Mycroft Holmes age 7.

Sherlock Holmes was broken.

The doctors said he was having difficulties making emotional connections. It wasn’t impossible, just unlikely. Sherlock was six-years-old. His parents bought him a dog.

Sherlock learned what it meant to care for something. He _loved_ Redbeard. Sherlock and Redbeard were pirates together. It was the happiest time of Sherlock’s young life. When Sherlock was eight he received his first violin. He _loved_ that violin. Loved what he could do, how it allowed him to express emotions. He learned beats and rhythm. His parents signed him up for ballroom dance lessons. Sherlock _likes_ to dance; it’s a whole new way of communicating. He _doesn’t_ like the girls. They are pushy and some try to lead, but with the right partner Sherlock can make them bend to his will with the easiest of touches. Sherlock _likes_ manipulating people. When Sherlock is ten he composed his first waltz. By combining his two skills and talents Sherlock created something beautiful. He gave it to his parents as a wedding anniversary gift.

When Sherlock is 12 a stranger goes speeding by their house as Redbeard is chasing a ball. Sherlock is running after him shouting, desperately trying to call the dog back to him, but it was too late. The driver doesn’t even stop to say sorry. Sherlock witnesses the whole thing. His brain takes longer than it should to process what happened. It is his first experience with death.

That night Mycroft comes into his room as Sherlock cries endlessly into his pillow.

“Caring is not an advantage” Mycroft says. Sherlock grabs the closest thing and throws it at Mycroft. It is his violin. The violin smashes against the wall. Mycroft leaves without another word. Sherlock cries all the harder for destroying the second thing he loves.

In the morning there is a new violin waiting for him downstairs. Sherlock spends the next two days making the instrument screech and howl out his anger and frustration. He wishes he were dead too, so he can be with Redbeard again. His parents ask him if he wants another dog, but it’s not the same, he says no. Sherlock launches himself into his studies. He _likes_ books; they don’t talk back or ask him silly questions.

_“I have my books, and my poetry to protect me.”_

When Sherlock is 15 his class is chosen to perform a play that everyone must participate in. Sherlock signs up to be a stage hand. In English they are doing _Hamlet_ so everyone decides that is the play they should do too. During class Sherlock is asked to read the ‘ _to be, or not to be’_ speech. He wants to read it soulless and monotone but he connects with the words; he understands Hamlet’s pain all too well. When he’s finished his professor tells him, “you understand this, you know death.”

Sherlock gets the part of Hamlet. His parents are thrilled. Sherlock wears long sleeves to cover his arms.

Sherlock is 19 when one evening he is walking through a cemetery and he sees- _thinks he sees_ \- Redbeard. His heart does something funny in his chest and though he knows it can’t be real he follows the dog.

This is how Sherlock meets Victor Trevor.

The dog’s name is Maxwell. Victor is in some ways a mirror of Sherlock; he is tall and thin with curly ginger hair where Sherlock’s is black.

At first it’s an intellectual interest.

It starts out slow. They meet up once a week, then twice a week; for coffee, for dinner, just because one of them is board. Then Sherlock starts skipping classes to spend time with Victor because he is so much more interesting. Victor introduces him to his father. Sherlock impresses the man with his ability to _deduce_ things about him. Things no one else could, or should know. Victor’s father _likes_ Sherlock. He thinks he is a good influence for his son; will help to keep him on the right path.

Sherlock tells Victor about his mind and how it just won’t slow down sometimes. Victor introduces him to his friend Cocaine. Sherlock _likes_ Cocaine, it slows down his mind allows him to really think. Sherlock _loves_ Victor. It’s a long time coming but Sherlock eventually agrees to certain physical aspects of their relationship. What once was purely intellectual has turned into emotional and now physical. Sherlock _loves_ Cocaine, the needle in his arm. He _likes_ it best when Victor is the one to give it to him.

Three days after a bad trip Sherlock wakes up _alone_ in the hospital. He doesn’t remember anything. When Mycroft comes in Sherlock is more than surprised, they haven’t spoken since Sherlock dropped out of University four years ago. He tells Sherlock he’ll have to go to rehab. He tells Sherlock, Victor didn’t make it.

When Mycroft leaves Sherlock turns his head into his pillow and cries. Everything he _loves_ only dies, he vows never to let anyone in, ever again.

_“If I never loved, I never would have cried.”_

Months later , while Sherlock is still in rehab, Mycroft comes to visit and plays for him the late-night panicked message Sherlock left on his answer phone.

“Myc? Myc I know you’re there! Pick up! It’s Victor, he- oh God he won’t wake up. Please Myc! Please HELP!”

Why Sherlock had called Mycroft and not an ambulance is anyone’s’ guess. His own disparate pleas ring hollow in his ears. Sherlock still doesn’t remember what happened, doesn’t want to remember. Was he already high when he called Mycroft, or did he take the fatal dose afterword’s hoping to follow his lover into death? Had it already been too late for Victor when Sherlock made the call or was he just passed out?

Sherlock hadn’t been allowed out of the hospital to go to the funeral. That was okay, he couldn’t face Victor’s father anyway. He didn’t want to be blamed for Victor’s death. He was only 24; he didn’t want to have blood on his hands. Sherlock wears long sleeves to cover his arms.

Eighteen months after Victor’s death and Sherlock’s over dose, two months after his 26th birthday, Sherlock is allowed to leave rehab. He is forced to live with Mycroft.

\---------------------------------------------

A British woman living in Florida needs help proving her husband is _guilty_ of a number of crimes. She is looking for someone discreet and unknown. By accident the file somehow ends up on Mycroft’s desk. Mycroft comes home one night to find Sherlock sitting at his desk reading the file. Sherlock begs Mycroft to let him take it.

This is how Sherlock meets Martha Hudson.

Despite her motherly tendencies he _likes_ Mrs. Hudson. She is witty, and clever, in her own way. He solves the case. Mr. Hudson didn’t stand a chance. Despite being the recent widow of a drug lord Mrs. Hudson is lacking in funds after paying the lawyers who _couldn’t_ win her the case. She pays him in biscuits and a favour. “Anything you need dear, in the future, anything at all, and I’ll do what I can.”

The biscuits are good. The favour is an empty promise, one he doubts he’ll cash in on.

Sherlock _likes_ the thrill of solving a puzzle. He wants more. It’s a growing addiction; one Mycroft feeds. After all solving puzzles won’t kill him.

One year later Sherlock is found at a crime scene, high. The first officer on the scene is an eager young Sargent. The man tries to get Sherlock to leave but Sherlock is explaining about angles of stab wounds and how it’s just _not possible_. When the Sargent’s superior officer _does_ show up they arrest Sherlock.  

Sherlock’s finger prints are not in the system, he doesn’t have a criminal record. _It’s only a crime if you get caught_. Sherlock is good, too good. All the times he broke into houses, drug dens, he was never caught. They can’t even hold him for possession, he has no drugs on him, only in him, and they are fast wearing away. He refuses to talk to anyone but the Sargent who found him.

This is how Sherlock meets Gregory Lestrade.

When they first meet Greg’s hair is still mostly black. For the next two years Greg tells Sherlock about the interesting cases he’s working on and Sherlock helps him. When Greg is promoted to Detective Inspector he allows Sherlock to come to crime scenes with him, on the condition he remains clean. Greg’s hair has gone almost completely grey and he blames it on Sherlock. Sherlock tells him he should be lucky it has only gone grey and not fallen out completely. Women are more likely to cheat on their husbands if they are bald. They aren’t friends.

_“I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain.”_

Lestrade has sent Sherlock to St. Bart’s morgue to examine a body. After signing in Sherlock makes the mad dash to the body. He bursts through the door of the morgue startling the elderly man working there and his new intern.

This is how Sherlock meets Molly Hooper.

The mousy young intern is so startled by the dashing bloke that just entered her space she drops the heart she was holding in her hands. Thankfully back into the cavity from which she had just plucked it.

Sherlock pays her little to no attention and demands to see the body Lestrade sent him for. The elderly pathologist obliges. Within ten minutes Sherlock has left, taking Molly’s heart with him.

He’s not to the end of the hall when Molly asks her supervisor. “Who was that?”

“Sherlock Holmes. He helps the police sometimes. You might see him once in a while.”

Molly _likes_ Sherlock. It will be almost a year before she gets the courage to finally ask him out for a coffee. When she does it goes horribly wrong.

\----------------------------

Twenty-six days after his 33rd birthday Sherlock is working on a case in the laboratories at St. Bart’s Hospital. It’s been a busy morning; he stopped and had a chat with Mike Stamford. He has to be nice to Stamford; it is with his permission he’s allowed here. He mentioned, in passing how hard it is to find a suitable flatmate these days; Sherlock is going to cash in on that favour owed by Mrs. Hudson. He has beaten a corpse with a riding crop, it was for the case. That reminds him the crop is still in the mortuary. Molly has offered to bring him coffee. Sherlock has to be nice to Molly; it is with her permission he is allowed to look at dead bodies. He’s still waiting for the coffee when Mike enters with an old school friend.

This is how Sherlock meets John Watson.

Doctor John Watson

Captain John Watson

Sherlock _likes_ John.

He isn’t boring.

At first it’s an intellectual interest.

It’s almost too late when Sherlock realises he _cares_. It’s only been three months but Sherlock, without his knowing had gotten _attached_. It’s not until he sees John with a bomb strapped to him, it’s not some nameless, faceless victim this time. It’s John. John, who Sherlock has come to trust and even rely on, familiar flesh and blood, John, who Sherlock _cares_ about.

“Caring is not an advantage” Mycroft’s words come back to haunt him.

“I will burn the heart out of you.” says Moriarty.

It’s odd because Sherlock has worked so hard to not have a heart, to not let anyone in. Caring about John won’t save him; won’t save either of them. That’s when it clicks. Moriarty knows what Sherlock didn’t. What was once purely intellectual has become emotional. John saved Sherlock’s life once, from the cabbie. Sherlock saved John’s life, from the Chinese smugglers. They are square. They either both walk away from this together or neither of them does.

Sherlock can’t live without his heart, his blogger, his flatmate, his _John._

Sherlock raises the gun to shoot the bomb. After Redbeard he was left alone. After Victor he was left alone. He will not be left alone without John, not again.

In the end it’s a phone call that saves them.

Sherlock vows not to tell John what he has discovered.

_“I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.”_

September the 14th 2011 Sherlock is dragged from his flat at 221 B Baker Street in nothing but a white bed sheet and taken by force to Buckingham Palace. _He was working a case!_ The client has been left upstairs. Shortly after John arrives and they have a good laugh about Sherlock not wearing any pants. Mycroft arrives and Sherlock sulks. Mycroft sends Sherlock to an address in Belgravia with the purpose of collecting information from The Woman.

This is how Sherlock meets Irene Adler.

She is naked. By removing all personal objects she’s eliminated his ability to deduce her. He does the only thing he can and records her measurements 32-24-34. They begin talking about the case he was working on this morning. She asks him a question and he can’t help it when the words come all out at once. _That’s new_ he muses. He’s not _attracted_ to her. He _can’t_ be. He doesn’t use labels but if he did his would be Asexual.

At first it’s an intellectual interest.

Mycroft is wrong. Sex doesn’t alarm him. It is part of human nature, just something people do. Sherlock is still not sure if he was ever physically _attracted_ to Victor or if he just consented to him so he would stop asking. Sherlock, like all humans, needs the release caused by orgasm. When the stress becomes too much he takes care of it.

The Woman sends him text messages. He doesn’t reply. They are playing a game but Sherlock doesn’t know the rules.

She sends him a Christmas gift. It is her phone. Her protection. Without it she is a dead woman walking.

Mycroft accompanies him to the morgue.

Her face is badly damaged. The numbers come back to him, unwanted, 32-24-34. It must be her.

He’s in a sort of shock. He doesn’t feel _alone_ like before. He still has John back at home after all.

Mycroft gives him a cigarette. It helps to numb the pain.

For five long days he mourns. He doesn’t realise he’s doing it at the time. Why should he _care_? He _didn’t_ care. He doesn’t cry. His violin makes soft, sad, heart-wrenching music. And John can’t stand it. He wants to comfort Sherlock but doesn’t know how. Sherlock who almost never shows emotion is mourning the death of a woman he barely knew. When had he gotten emotionally attached?

On the fifth day John leaves the flat. John is picked up by a black car. _Mycroft_. Sherlock follows him. They are probably going somewhere to discuss Sherlock and his “moods”. Sherlock is going to tell Mycroft off for interfering.

It isn’t Mycroft. It’s _The Woman._ The woman who is supposed to be dead. It was a trick. All part of her game. To make him _care_.

“I’m not dead, let’s have dinner.”

Sherlock leaves without a word. Without _John_. He’s not mad at John _per se_ after all, he didn’t know either. It’s as The Woman says, he just needs to be _alone_. He storms back to Baker Street, he’s not alone.

The invaders have hurt Mrs. Hudson. She’s his landlady he shouldn’t _care_. He cares. The men will pay.

“How many times did he fall out the window?”

“I lost count.”

\-------------------------------------------

Sherlock is sitting on the sofa in Mycroft’s home office. He’s tuned out the conversation happening over at the table. He’s already told Mycroft to concede to The Woman’s demands. He wants nothing more to do with it. It’s over, she’s won, and he’s lost strangely that is okay. She’s not his problem anymore. She’s made that perfectly clear.

“Jim Moriarty sends his love.”

Sherlock scowls. Enraged and infuriated anew. He should have known. Then he does know, he knows what her password is. Maybe he has known it all along and just didn’t want to be right. The letter fit so perfect. Too perfect.

I Am SHERLocked

It spells his name, sort of.

There is only one explanation.

The Woman cares.

“I took you’re pulse.”

Caring is not an advantage. It won’t save her.

“Please.”

“Sorry about dinner.” He isn’t.

\--------------------------------------------

It begins to eat at him. He has taken away her protection. It’s as good as handing her a death sentence. News reaches him from Karachi, she’s been captured. Execution is imminent. He’s only 34 he’s too young to have blood on his hands.

“Run.”

They part ways in a Karachi hotel room a week later. They _may_ never see each other ever again. In a blind moment he tells her not to say “good-bye.”

Instead she kisses him. Not a peck in the cheek that he is strangely ok with. It is a full on hard press of lips against lips.

He hasn’t kissed anyone since Victor and this is so different he is lost for a moment. Then he finds the rhythm and kisses back. His eye lids fall closed. When he opens his eyes again she’s gone. It’s the worst trick she has ever played on him.

“Caring is not an advantage.” He tells his reflection. But the words that once stung a sad little boy have lost their bite after years of over use.

Maybe caring is not a disadvantage.

Maybe Sherlock Holmes isn’t broken maybe he’s just bent.

The people worth caring about are worth waiting for.

Sherlock vows to show John he cares more often.

They are in a cemetery. Sherlock is trying to apologize for the row he started the night before.

“I don’t have _friends_. I’ve just got one.”

Sherlock is standing on the roof of St. Bart’s. This time Sherlock is the one facing death. He won’t condemn Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and John to death so that he can live. Living a life without them wouldn’t be worth living at all. He has come to care about and respect all of them, and Molly.

Mycroft was wrong, puzzles can kill him. Jim Moriarty the best puzzle Sherlock ever had is going to be the death of him. When Moriarty pulls the trigger Sherlock sees blood matted ginger fur, and the cold lifeless eyes of Victor staring into Sherlock’s soul. Sherlock is so lost for a moment, taken back to a rat infested drug den where he and Victor went to get high. It’s the first time Sherlock has ever remembered anything from that night. Victor was already dead.

He’s pulled back to the rooftop, the present with the jarring realisation he needs to put the plan in to action.

“This is my note.”

Sherlock visits the cemetery once before he leaves, John is there too.

“Please, don’t be dead.”

Sherlock’s 34 he’s too young to die.

_“A rock feels no pain, and an Island never cries.”_


End file.
